


A Day at a Time

by kowai_no_ouji



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Izuo - Freeform, M/M, Shizaya - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowai_no_ouji/pseuds/kowai_no_ouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles dedicated to the day-to-day experiences of Shizuo and Izaya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoke & Mirrors

The overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke was what roused Izaya from his sleep. It was a smell that he had grown accustomed to over years of being around a certain someone. 

At the moment he just so happened to be wrapped around that someone, bare arms and legs flung every which way over a warm, hard body. A body that was currently exhaling a stream of poison into his face. 

Fully awake and entirely annoyed, Izaya fanned his hand to disperse the cloud of toxins. “Smoking is disgusting, Shizu-chan.”

“Yeah, well you think a lot about me is disgusting, and yet here you are,” the blond responded coolly, reaching over his head and crushing his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table. 

Izaya sighed, eyes closing like a contented housecat as he settled back into a comfortable half-sleep. He could’ve damn near purred as Shizuo began brushing his bangs away from his forehead before letting them fall back, then repeating the action.

“It’s bad for your skin, ne.”

“Like I give a shit about my skin.”

“Well, unlike Shizu-chan, I don’t plan on having premature wrinkles because of your filthy habit.” Smiling softly, Izaya mused, “Ne, unless it’s your plan to kill me slowly by giving me lung cancer.”

Ignoring the last part, Shizuo muttered, “You care way too damn much about how you look.”

“Appearance is important, ne? Humans tend to treat attractive people better. My job will be a lot more difficult if I were to become ugly.”

Looking at the raven-haired man lying beside him, it was hard for Shizuo to conjure up an image of an old, wrinkly flea. Neither of them were anywhere near old, but Izaya didn’t look like he’d changed at all since high school. He released a small laugh. “ _You?_ You could breathe my cigarette smoke for the next hundred years and you’d still look like…” he made some confused gesture with his hand that went unnoticed, “ _this._ ”

Eyes opening, Izaya settled a playful gaze on his favorite monster. “Is that protozoan for ‘I think you’re pretty’, Shizu-chan?”

The smile that stretched across Shizuo’s face as he settled down next to Izaya was radiant in its honesty, and Izaya felt his stomach flutter as the blond leaned in to nuzzle his neck. “Amongst other things, yeah.”

Closing his eyes and enjoying the fresher smell of shampoo as he turned his nose into gold hair, Izaya murmured, “Makes you wonder how someone like me is with someone as hideous as Shizu-chan, ne?”

The chuckle against his skin was hot and breathy. “Yeah, but asking why is just gonna piss me off.”

“Hn,” Izaya grinned mischievously, mouth moving to hover near Shizuo’s ear. “Well, it’s definitely not because I like you.”

Mouth brushing pale collarbones, hands gliding over soft warm skin, Shizuo smirked against the heartbeat thrumming passionately beneath his lips. “Never even crossed my mind.”


	2. Preference

“Does Shizu-chan ever wish I were a girl?”

Some odd years and a handful too many later, Shizuo was still not accustomed to Izaya’s weird-ass questions. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he shot the man sitting on the couch beside him a look. “What?”

“Would you prefer it if I were a woman, Shizu-chan?” Really, it wasn’t that difficult of a question.

A look crossed Shizuo’s face like he was really thinking about it before shaking his head and returning his cigarette to his mouth. “That’d be creepy.”

“Rude.” Izaya frowned. “I’d be a cute girl, ne. Unlike Shizu-chan who’d have big muscles and shoulders. Not cute at all.”

Shizuo shrugged. “So I wouldn’t look good in a skirt.”

“But doesn’t Shizu-chan like boobs? You are a man after all.”

“Yeah, well so are you,” he argued, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. Izaya probably already knew of Shizuo’s utter lack of experience with women, but that didn’t mean he liked talking about it.

Izaya smiled impishly, a telltale sign that what he was about to say was intentionally supposed to piss Shizuo off. “ I forgot. Shizu-chan is more of an _ass_ man, ne.”

Shizuo wasn’t about to agree, but he wasn’t about to disagree either. To be perfectly honest he never really had much of a preference for body parts. Attractive was attractive, and due to lack of personal experience he never had the _opportunity_ to really even know if he was more of a chest or ass kind of guy. All he knew for sure was that when the flea wasn’t pissing him off and asking him annoying-as-fuck questions, there wasn’t one part of him that Shizuo _didn’t_ have a preference for. But he’d give up smoking and join the Tokyo ballet before admitting that the only preference he was aware of was any and every part of Izaya Orihara.

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde muttered, his usual response to anything the flea had to say.

Enjoying the agitation that was much too apparent on the protozoan’s face, Izaya moved to rest his head on strong thighs, smirking when those thighs tensed. “But you know, sticking it in a girl feels different than when you stick it in my ass. And Shizu-chan has never been with anyone but me, ne, so you must be curious.”

The sigh that left him was frustrated, this subject tiring for some reason. “Why are you asking me this?”

Izaya’s smirk tightened. “Humor me.”

Taking a final drag from his cigarette, Shizuo left it in the ashtray and dropped his attention to the man lying on his lap. “I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Hn,” Izaya’s smile turned knowing. “I bet Shizu-chan likes blondes.”

Lazily, Shizuo twirled a lock of soft raven hair around his finger, meeting Izaya’s smirk with his own. “Not really.”

“Oh? Then tell me, ne,” Izaya challenged, “What is Shizu-chan’s dream girl?”

“Well, she’s skinny and has no ass,” his hand moved to flick Izaya’s bangs away from his forehead. “But she has a pretty face.”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Of course, ne. And let me guess, she’s petite and cute, and cries like a virgin every time you’re in bed.”

“No,” Shizuo refuted with a quiet laugh. “She likes it and isn’t shy about it.”

Izaya’s expression turned wry. “This is some girl from a porn, isn’t it? Be serious, ne. I want to know Shizu-chan’s type.”

“I’m telling you, asshole.”

Izaya shook his head, clearly disappointed. “Bad taste.”

“The worst,” Shizuo agreed.

The two were quiet for a while, when Izaya looked back up at the blonde. “I don’t get it.” It was difficult for him to admit, as he liked to believe he understood everything about Shizuo, but everything the blonde was saying was the opposite of his expectations.

“Yeah, well I don’t get it either,” Shizuo sighed. “That’s just my type, I guess, even though everything about her pisses me off. Especially that ugly-as-fuck coat.”

Shizuo glanced down in time to see sudden awareness flicker across Izaya’s face, and he laughed as the flea grit his teeth and diverted his gaze, patches of warm rose blooming under pale skin.

“Shizu-chan is an idiot.”


	3. Pervert Control

It was five o’clock in Tokyo and Izaya Orihara was cursing himself for not considering another mode of transportation as he squeezed his way onto the train that was to take him to the other end of the city. If he weren’t getting paid as much as he was for this job, he’d forgo the entire operation. While he loved his humans dearly, that didn’t mean he enjoyed feeling them pressed against every side of him. 

And it was going to be quite a long ride, and hell if he was going to have some fat man with curious hands behind him the whole way. Either he find a new place to stand, or someone on this train was going to get sliced. 

Moving sinuously through the crowd, a true expert at maneuvering capably in the most challenging of situations, Izaya began his journey for the far corner of the cart, the safest and most secluded spot during this time of day when everyone was crowding around the doors. 

As he was making his way around an annoyingly pregnant woman, however, a flash of bright gold caught his attention and he paused. 

_Shizu-chan?_

Immediately he told himself that there was no way the beast would confine himself to a train during the busiest time of day. The monster liked to put as much distance between himself and the opportunity for harming people as possible. So him being on a packed train, surrounded by perverts, crying children, and sweating flesh didn’t seem like the most apt of ideas. 

But Shizu-chan was Shizu-chan, which for people who didn’t know Izaya-speak, meant he was adorably stupid. 

This was prime opportunity for him to tease the protozoan. Already, he was clamoring his way to that side of the train, ignoring the protests of the people he shoved out of the way in the process. 

However, just as he was near enough to extend an arm and brush Shizuo’s back, he caught sight of the trio of teenage girls clustered next to the blonde, each one of them whispering and glancing shyly up at the debt collector. 

_Hn?_ Were these girls… _interested_ in his Shizu-chan? 

He stopped to observe them, slightly annoyed, but ever-curious. One of them, the prettiest, was nudged eagerly by the other two who were smiling at her encouragingly.

“Go say hi,” the tallest urged.

The girl shook her head, blushing furiously, once again glancing at Shizuo, who the whole time seemed totally unaware of the attention he was receiving. 

It was all so sickeningly cute. He forgot what it was like for Shizuo when he was outside of Ikebukuro, far from the rumors and the people who knew what a destructive force he was. Outside of that small little world, Shizuo was nothing but a handsome stranger to the people walking by. 

Still, who the hell would be interested in a man wearing that ridiculous bartender getup? 

“I _can’t_ ,” the small girl whined, desperately trying to step away from the man, but her friends just kept pushing her over towards him. One push, however, was a little too forceful and she ended up falling into the blonde’s side.

Immediately the hair on Izaya rose, pissed as tiny feminine hands latched onto a white shirtsleeve for support. 

Shizuo helped the girl straighten up, coolly asking, “You okay?” 

Stepping back towards her friend, she diverted her gaze to the ground, nodding. “Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Izaya almost smiled at the look of disappointment on the girl’s face. What was she expecting? That her falling into him would play out like it did in the movies, and she’d magically end up with his phone number and promise of a date? Hah! If so, she picked the wrong man to lay her expectations on. No woman ever dated Shizuo, he was sure of it, and on more than one occasion, _made sure_ of it. 

He had to protect his pretty little humans, ne?

But really, he couldn’t _blame_ them for wanting to try. Shizuo was beautiful when he wasn’t opening that loud mouth of his, or throwing things around like an angry gorilla. Even Izaya could appreciate the protozoan’s exceptional physique and face. 

When he noticed the girl being encouraged to go and speak to Shizuo, Izaya felt it prime time to make an appearance.

Stealthily, slipping unnoticed behind the debt collector, Izaya slid his hand from his coat to produce the sharpened end of his blade. Which was sharper, his knife or his gaze, was debatable. 

Holding a slender finger to his lips to instruct the girl to be quiet, she nodded silently, absolutely petrified. 

Backing away, she returned to her friends, who were confused by the girl’s sudden disinterest in the blonde.

_Works like a charm_ , Izaya cooed, smirking maliciously before returning his knife to his coat pocket. 

Gently, Izaya pressed himself flush against Shizuo’s back, his hands sliding against his lower back. “Excuse me,” he said, disguising his voice for one much deeper and near laughing when Shizuo tossed over his shoulder—

“Can’t be helped.”

_Oh, Shizu-chan. You make this so easy._

Turning his face towards Shizuo’s neck, Izaya purposefully released a warm breath against his skin, satisfied when he felt the brute tense at the sensation. 

Honestly, this could be anyone. Shizuo didn’t know it was him, _obviously_ , or he’d have his head slammed through the glass window by now. To Shizuo, right now there was some stranger pressed against him, touching him, and breathing intimately on his neck, and all he could muster was a slight stiffening of his body? 

No, this would not do. His Shizu-chan really needed to be more self-aware, or one day he was going to have some slimy-old man groping his ass. Speaking of which…

Izaya, smirk growing into a full-fledged smile, moved his hips solidly against Shizuo’s firm ass, enjoying the way the blonde shifted, clearly uncomfortable. He really did have a nice ass, which wasn’t much of a shock considering he had a nice _everything_. Particularly… 

A sharp breath left the blonde when a hand moved between his thighs, fingers brushing intimately along the inside of his leg. “You should be more on guard, Shizu-chan,” Izaya murmured quietly, mouth hovering dangerously close to his neck. “There are perverts, ne?”

Izaya wanted to deny that feeling Shizuo relax, now that he was aware just who his perpetrator was, didn’t make him slightly pleased. But quivering dangerously beneath the warm surface of that gold skin was unmistakable anger, and Izaya very near cringed when a strong hand roughly grabbed hold of his and pulled him forwards to trade their positions. 

Unapologetically, because really, he wasn’t sorry for copping a feel, the informant met furious leonine eyes. 

Likely not wanting to make a scene, Shizuo leaned closer, his voice quiet, but shaking. “When this train stops, we’re getting off,” he began, that hand tightening around the pale wrist it held captive. “And then I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

Izaya didn’t care either way for the threat, knowing it was only that, because even off the train there would still be hordes of people that Shizuo would be too hesitant to bring harm too. What he _was_ interested in, however, were the eyes of that small girl he’d threatened earlier who was watching him and Shizuo with quiet curiosity. 

Like she still didn’t _get it_. 

Still smiling, Izaya returned his attention to the blonde hovering over him, his gaze intense, his body heat suffocating. Wordlessly, he leaned forward to softly suck on Shizuo’s lower lip. A kiss that was quick, wet, and dripping with the message that this man was _his_. 

“Do you want to die, flea?” Shizuo growled, although clearly affected as was made obvious by the flowering of pink on his cheeks. 

“Not particularly,” Izaya sighed, leaning dangerously closer, drawn in by the familiar smell of tobacco and cheap detergent. His head began to pound pleasantly; likely endorphins or whatever the hell that chemical was that made you feel like you were in heaven—dopamine or oxytocin, probably both. Whatever it was, it was messing with his thought process, as seemed to be the case whenever he was this close to the protozoan. 

However, this wonderful feeling did little to mask the pain shooting up his arm as Shizuo tightened his grip, intentional or not, irrelevant. 

“Let go, ne.” 

Shizuo snorted a laugh. “Hell no.”

Izaya met his angry gaze, mocha eyes playful. “This is the thanks I get for saving you?”

The look of confusion and absolute suspicion on Shizuo’s face was delightful. “The hell are you talking about? You were the one—” he glanced around for any obvious eavesdroppers, and dropped his voice so low that it came across unintentionally seductive, “ _molesting me._ ” 

The informant rolled his eyes. “Let’s not be so dramatic, Shizu-chan. Besides…” Between them, he brushed the back of his knuckle against Shizuo’s crotch, a movement that was subtle, but oh-so-very effective. “I’d say you liked it.” 

Knocking away the offending hand, Shizuo growled, “And I’d say you want my foot up your ass.”

Izaya flashed a naughty smile. “That’s kinky, even for me.” 

The innocent blush on the blonde’s face deepened into a rich cherry, and he gritted his teeth. “Shut up.” 

Shizuo was so easily embarrassed sometimes, Izaya couldn’t help himself. If they weren’t on this train amongst all these witnesses, he’d eat him alive. 

The two grew quiet, the initial excitement and façade of animosity dwindling, slowly replaced by a pleasant coziness that came with being huddled together amongst a crowd of strangers. 

Eventually the grip Shizuo had on Izaya’s wrist loosened, his thumb massaging it in a gesture of apology, and Izaya closed his eyes against the on flux of chemicals clouding his head with feelings of attachment and his stomach with the proverbial butterflies. 

“Being groped feels gross,” Shizuo commented casually. “Don’t fuckin’ do that again.” 

The words held little animosity, and Izaya found it difficult to detect any with the way Shizuo was saying all this with his mouth brushing his forehead every time the train rocked. “But Shizu-chan is so hard to resist, ne.”

The blonde paused, and Izaya felt the small smile against his forehead. 

“Can’t be that damn hard.”

Izaya held back a smile of his own. _You’d be surprised, Shizu-chan._

The train began to slow, the voice on the intercom announcing their arrival, which just so happened to be Izaya’s stop. 

Sighing, he met Shizuo’s gaze. “Are you going home?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo nodded. “Kasuka had some free time today, but got called in for some meeting or something, so…” As always, the invitation remained unspoken, only evident in the quiet expectancy in honey-hued eyes. 

Reluctantly, Izaya pulled his wrist from fingers that didn’t seem ready to let go just yet. “I’ll be late, ne.”

“You still have—”

Izaya pulled from his pocket the silver key he kept safe beside his flick blade and his phone. 

Satisfaction softened the debt collector’s expression, looking so perfectly content, that Izaya considered forgetting his job and staying on the train the rest of the way to Ikebukuro. 

However, giving in to impulse was very human, very weak, and he couldn’t have that. He’d just have to wait. 

The doors swooshed open, the crowd inside exchanging itself for the one on the platform. Just before stepping off, Izaya curled his arms around those wonderfully strong shoulders and pulled Shizuo into an obscenely affectionate kiss, holding on long enough to make sure the occupants of the train got a good eyeful, long enough to know that the beautiful blonde in the bartender uniform was _his_ and therefore _hands-off._

Pulling away and jumping onto the platform just in time to watch the doors slide closed, Izaya blew a comically sweet kiss to the beet-red blonde who looked ready to bust his fist through a window. 

“IIIIZAAAAYAAAAA-”

What was probably ‘kun’ and some combination of the words ‘kill’ and ‘you’ were lost under the sound of the train hissing just before it began to move away.

Izaya waved it goodbye, his eyes meeting those of the humans on the same cart as Shizuo, silently promising a very painful death if they even so much as dared lay a hand on what was his. 

Not that he was actually worried. Because Shizu-chan was Shizu-chan, and the next person that even so much as looked at him the wrong way was about to get a literal foot up their ass.


	4. A Matter of Perspective

“Let me see.”

“Shut the hell up, already. I said no,” Shizuo groused again, swatting Izaya away to resume watching the television, despite the fact that from the distance he was sitting, the screen was but a blurry fuzz of moving colors. 

Izaya bit back a smile. “I won’t tease you, I promise.” 

The blonde snorted. “Bullshit.”

“I wear glasses too, Shizu-chan. They’re not something to be em—”

A firm hand slipped over his mouth, silencing him. Honey eyes glowed with silent caution. “My eyesight may be shit, but so is your hearing. I said no.” 

A slight shiver shimmied up Izaya’s back. Oh, how he loved angry, domineering Shizuo. When that rage wasn’t lobbing a fist at his face, it did incredible things for his libido. 

However, he didn’t sanction being manhandled outside of the bedroom. Not unless he asked for it. 

With wicked intent, Izaya sank his teeth into one of those fingers pressed over his mouth, a rogue smile tasting salt and blood. 

Shizuo hissed through the pain, snapping back his hand and growling. “Damn louse.” 

Izaya took that moment to reach for the black leather case guarded by Shizuo’s thighs. Snatching it, he pulled it out of reach before Shizuo could make a desperate grab for it. 

“ _Izaya,_ ” Shizuo warned. “Don’t.”

Pressing his foot into the blonde’s side, Izaya pushed him further away. “I just want to see.” Opening the case, he pulled out a pair of black, square frames and inspected them closely before slipping them on. 

At his feet, he heard Shizuo sigh a sound of defeat. 

“So?” Pulling himself up onto his elbows, Izaya wiggled the frames. “Do I look hideous?”

The glare Shizuo shot him was blurry through the thick frames, but Izaya caught it nonetheless. “You look like a dumbass, as usual.” 

“So mean,” Izaya whined, only pretending to be offended as he worked himself up onto his knees to inspect his reflection in the mirror hanging above his couch. “They don’t look bad.” 

And they really didn’t, but Shizuo found that to be no damn surprise. The flea could dress himself in a garbage bag and tie a fuckin’ rubber duck to his head and look as irritatingly appealing as ever. 

And sure, the argument could be made that he wore sunglasses half of the waking day, so the transition to glasses should be a piece of cake, but it wasn’t the same. Sunglasses were just part of his uniform, no big deal. Eyeglasses, with their clear lenses and striking frames drew attention to his face, to the balance of his features, and gave the impression of intelligence. That wasn’t him. It might be fine for Izaya, but not for someone like him. 

“Did you consider contact lenses?”

“I kept tearing them,” Shizuo grumbled, the memory of his failed attempts to place that delicate lens on his eyeball ushering forth a resurgence of frustration. 

“Laser eye surgery?”

“Can’t afford it.”

“I can,” Izaya added casually, plopping himself next to the incensed brute, eyes coyly smiling from behind heavy frames.

Shizuo met Izaya’s gaze, frown softening slightly. “I’m not gonna have you payin’ for my shit, flea.” 

“Oh, I would never do it for free. Consider it a trade, ne?” 

The blonde’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“What I want, Shizu-chan, is for you to put these on.” Removing the glasses, Izaya offered them back to their rightful owner, who knew better than to trust that was all to the deal.

“And?”

“ _And,_ ” Izaya continued, a naughty smirk curling his lip as he climbed onto Shizuo’s lap, feeling the brute tense as his one arm encircled those strong shoulders and his free hand slipped the glasses playfully up the bridge of his nose, “Play with me.”

“What are you, six years old?” 

But Izaya wasn’t listening, a tiny flush of color darkening his skin as the glasses slid into position on Shizuo’s face, garnet eyes glazing with a look that was oh-so-familiar. “Sixteen.” Pale fingers moved to the first button of Shizuo’s white shirt, toying with it before sliding it open, revealing smooth collarbones and warm skin. A pink tongue slipped across his lower lip as he eyed Shizuo hungrily. “No, fifteen.” 

Hot friction ignited a spasm of pleasure as Izaya pressed himself harder into his lap, and Shizuo grit his teeth, hands moving to still those hips. “ _Izaya._ ” 

“Call me Orihara-kun, ne,” he implored silkily, both hands freely moving to grip firmly onto Shizuo’s shoulders for balance. 

“The hell are you doing?”

Izaya rolled his hips, arms encircling Shizuo’s shoulders as he leaned in to rest his mouth at his ear. “Please, Heiwajima-sensei, I’ll be a good boy.” 

Something snapped, and for a moment Shizuo feared he’d somehow managed to break his frames. 

Turned out it was just his resolve and the seaming of his pants. 

_“Shit.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shizu-chan would be a hot teacher, let’s be real.


	5. Time Never Wasted

Shizuo knew before he even glanced at the clock on Izaya’s bedside table that he was late for work. The sun was hanging way too high, its golden beams warming dark sheets with late morning sunlight. 

_Late._

That was being generous. It was damn near noon. Tardiness only counted if you bothered to show up. At this rate he’d be lucky to make it at all. Tom was gonna rip him a new one. 

“Shit,” he groaned, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. 

If he were in his own bed, getting up wouldn’t be much of an issue. He’d be up, dressed, and out the door all before his first cigarette burned away. Not a problem. There wouldn’t be anything keeping him there like there was now. 

Izaya sighed, warm breath a whisper against his neck as his subconscious responded to Shizuo’s movement. Black lashes twitched and pale arms tightened their hold on his blond captive. A captive that was all too willing to stay caught if not for his conscience nagging him about being responsible. 

_Responsible._ Shizuo surrendered to a quiet smile, caramel gaze moving to the man pressed against him. 

Responsible was knowing better than to spend the night in damn Shinjuku when he had to be in Ikebukuro the following morning. Responsible was saying no when his body was screaming yes. Responsible was setting the alarm on his phone. 

Shizuo Heiwajima was _not_ responsible, all his efforts constantly subverted by one Izaya Orihara and his unnerving ability to convince the blond to throw priorities to the wayside for the sake of _fun_. 

And Shizuo usually had no issue having _fun_ , particularly Izaya’s definition of it. It was always the same invitation to the same playground. You, me, bed: _fun_. 

But it wasn’t the fun that got him in trouble. It was the next morning when he woke with the flea next to him, warm and naked and smelling a million kinds of good that the mere thought of detaching himself from that delicious heat seemed just about the worst idea in the world. 

But either he get his ass moving or he’d likely lose the one job he’d miraculously managed to hold onto for the past few years. 

With another pained groan, Shizuo tightened his hold on Izaya, nuzzling the feathery softness of tousled raven hair beneath his chin. He knew the flea was awake when he heard him sigh, the sound softly disgruntled. 

“Say somethin’ to piss me off,” he demanded gently, knowing that if anything could get him out of bed it was wanting to punch a hole in the wall. 

Against him Izaya stretched contentedly, not bothering to untangle his legs from Shizuo’s. “Why?” 

“Just do it.”

The informant’s mouth curled into a lazy smirk. “Does Shizu-chan want to hear about the dream he woke me from?” 

“Will it piss me off?”

“Well, if the idea of me fucking Kasuka-kun means anythi—”

That did it. 

The breath left Izaya’s lungs and he nearly bit off his own tongue midsentence as Shizuo shoved him roughly to the other side of the king-sized bed. 

“You’re a sick asshole, you know that?” Shizuo ground out, untangling himself from the sheets as he climbed off the bed in search of his pants. 

Immediately feeling the absence of Shizuo’s warmth, Izaya reached out for the blond man’s pillow, curling his arms around it and gazing hungrily at the wonderful view Shizuo was currently offering of his naked ass. “You asked for it, ne?” 

The debt collector snorted, shrugging on his crumpled white shirt. “Like hell I meant _that_.”

Quite purposefully the informant smoothed the sheet away from his hips, exposing milky flesh to an audience that refused to watch him. “Would Shizu-chan like to punish me?”

Finished fastening the last button, Shizuo hesitated, the invitation still much too tempting. Ignoring the urge to look at Izaya, knowing that it would be his undoing, he went in search of his belt. “Later,” he promised, “I’m late.”

“That’s a relief, ne. I thought you simply planned to dine and dash,” Izaya commented playfully.

Shizuo, now fully dressed, paused the search for his bowtie to offer Izaya a look of offense. “I’ve never pulled that shit, flea.” 

“There’s always a first for everything.”

“Not that.” Returning his eyes to the mess of discarded clothes on the floor, now mostly Izaya’s, he asked, “You seen my damn tie?” 

“This?” 

Shizuo turned to find Izaya looking quite pleased with himself, bending a leg to display Shizuo’s black silk tie adorning a porcelain thigh like some kinky-ass garter. 

Honey eyes narrowed dangerously, doing their very best not to look everywhere Izaya wanted them to. Just that one glance and already he felt the slow burn of arousal eating away at his resolve. “Give it.”

A thin brow lifted, disappearing beneath midnight fringe. “Since when do I simply give Shizu-chan anything?”

“You gave a hell of a lot last night, _I-za-ya-kun_.” 

Izaya smiled. “And you won’t thank me? I’m hurt, Shizu-chan.” 

If _thank_ was code for what he thought it was, then no, Izaya would not be getting _thanked_ this morning. “I’ll thank you later, alright?”

“So you’ll punish _and_ thank me, ne?” He wasn’t going to deny that he liked the sound of that idea. In an offer of silent agreement, Izaya unfastened the tie from his thigh and twirled it between his fingers. “Shizu-chan is going to be busy tonight.” 

Taking his tie and fastening it around his neck, Shizuo returned Izaya’s smile before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to brush his mouth against ever-smirking lips. “I’m not gonna go easy on you, flea.”

“And I won’t be as forgiving as your boss if you’re late.”

“I won’t be.” Surrendering to one last moment of indulgence, Shizuo pressed his mouth to Izaya’s forehead, a gesture the flea pretended to loathe for its transparent affection, but still expected every day. “Greedy asshole.” 

Izaya fell back into the sheets as Shizuo pulled away, casually remarking when the blond reached the door to the bedroom, “I’m not sorry that you’re late, Shizuo.”

Shizuo looked back, eyes locking with dark ruby, gaze moving over the unashamed nakedness of moonlight skin that was much warmer and softer than it appeared. “Me neither.”

Warmth pooled into that crimson gaze, unmistakably tender. Izaya, still annoyed with the way Shizuo drove him to lose all control over his emotions, his mask constantly slipping, turned away. “Leave, ne. Shizu-chan is making me nauseous.” 

The only sound the blond made as he departed was with the soft flick of his lighter and the gentle shush of his cigarette igniting. Behind an exhale of smoke was a smile, an expression he needed to rid himself of before he entered Ikebukuro. If Tom saw, that’d be it for him. But shit, if he wasn’t in a good mood right now.

Most days he woke to an alarm, and he was never late. He showered, ate breakfast, smoked a cigarette or three before leaving. Those mornings were easy, calm. Tom wasn’t pissed, and he got paid. 

Some days he woke to Izaya. 

And to be quite honest, those were his favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have around thirty incomplete drabbles/one-shots in my drafts and I’m pretty sure most of them involve Shizuo and Izaya cuddling in bed at some point. Is that bad? I feel like it’s bad. Oh well. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your reviews/favorites/follows! 
> 
> Until next update!  
> ~Merry


	6. No Big Deal

“It’s not a big deal,” Shizuo grunted from behind his cigarette, glancing at his bloodied thigh, his flesh torn and bleeding all over his pants. 

Shinra sighed, “You’re going to need stitches.” Pulling himself up, he offered casually, “Also, it’s likely going to scar.”

The blond hefted an indifferent shrug. “Fine. Not the first one he’s given me.”

Shinra inspected the wounded man sitting on his couch curiously, eyes inquiring, tone probing. “You know, you’re awfully calm about this.” 

Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, Shizuo released a gentle stream of smoke, tapping the ashes into the ashtray his friend kept just for him on the coffee table. “Like I said, it’s not the first time.”

“True,” Shinra agreed. “Still, I’m surprised you let him get this close.”

Shizuo moved his eyes back to his leg, purposefully avoiding the doctor’s pointed gaze and what he was implying. “It was an accident.” 

Shinra smiled. “A lover’s spat?” 

The blond tensed, jaw pulsing. “Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

The bespectacled man pouted exaggeratedly. “I’m hurt, Shizuo. We’ve been friends for so long now, and you still can’t be honest with me.” 

“Nothin’ to be honest about,” Shizuo replied, sounding every bit like someone unwilling to share a secret.

“Except that you’re dating Izaya.”

Shizuo’s head snapped up, eyes meeting Shinra’s in a panic. “We’re not—”

_Ding-dong!_

Turning his attention to the door, Shinra’s smile widened. “Well, I wonder who that could be?”

A peculiar combination of dread and anticipation swirled in Shizuo’s gut as Shinra opened the door to his apartment, that feeling escalating to full-on unease when Izaya entered, bracing himself unsteadily against a wall to take the weight off of what was clearly a sprained, maybe even broken, ankle. 

“I’d ask what happened, but I think I already know,” Shinra commented, helping Izaya into the living room and onto the couch next to Shizuo. “You both really are too old for this.” 

Somehow he was expecting a response, a rebuttal of sorts, surely a snide remark about his intelligence and a thorough questioning of his qualifications on being one to pass judgment on others. However, he was met with nothing but a tense sort of silence from both his friends-turned-patients.

It appeared he’d hit the nail right on the head. Lover’s spat, indeed. 

“I’ll be right back,” Shinra announced quietly, excusing himself from the room. 

When Shizuo felt they were truly alone, he was quick to break the silence. “Told you it was a stupid idea, flea.”

“The only stupid idea was thinking you could control yourself.”

“It was an accident.” Irritated with his current cigarette, Shizuo crushed it into the ashtray before lighting a new one. “Anyway, thought you said only animals fuck in alleyways.” 

Izaya smirked, all humor absent as he turned his attention to Shizuo. “Maybe if Shizu-chan didn’t bore me so much I wouldn’t feel the need to get experimental.”

Despite himself, the blond’s lip curled in a pleased grin, knowing Izaya was just trying to get a rise out of him. _Still_. Hell, that’s what had got them in this situation in the first place. 

One infuriating comment was all it took and the chase was on, Izaya barely a step ahead, leading Shizuo down familiar streets and alleys until they’d arrived at a towering fence. But something happened as the gap closed, the cat pinning its mouse into a corner getting the blood boiling in a different way for the both of them. The next thing they knew, Izaya’s back was against the fence, legs spread wide and off the ground, Shizuo fully in control.

And all it’d taken was one slick puddle of something oily and his balance was gone, control utterly lost, the two of them falling to the ground with the grace of a dropped sack of potatoes. 

So yeah, technically it _was_ his fault that Izaya was currently nursing a swollen ankle. However, the four-inch gash in his thigh was all flea. Angry, vindictive, vengeful flea.

“You okay, though?”

A flicker of disgust, more forced than necessary, twisted Izaya’s smirk into a frown. “Is Shizu-chan concerned? You should be careful; Shinra might hear you, ne?” 

Shizuo shrugged, discarding his cigarette. “Doesn’t matter. I think he pretty much has it figured out. He’s been suspicious about us since high school.”

The debt collector glanced down when he felt soft fingers dance across his knuckles before sliding over his hand. In quiet answer Shizuo turned his palm face up, watching carefully as Izaya brushed his fingers along the inside of his wrist before meeting his eyes. 

“But hiding is what makes this fun,” the dark-haired man murmured teasingly. “Now I’ll be bored.”

Leaning closer, Shizuo kissed Izaya softly, the crimson-eyed informant smiling contentedly against the taste of smoke and sugar. “I’ll show you boring, flea.” 

Quite liking the sound of that, Izaya hummed pleasantly against that familiar mouth. “Hn, now?” 

The blond growled. “Later.”

Pulling away, Izaya rolled his eyes. “Shizu-chan really _is_ boring.” 

“This is Shinra’s fuckin’ _couch_ ,” the blond bit back defensively. 

“Hence the thrill, you protozoan.” 

“I’m not gonna—” Realizing how loud he was, he adjusted his voice to a whisper. “It would just be embarrassing, dumbass.” 

“That pervert has probably imagined far worse, Shizu-chan. I doubt he’d walk in on anything that could surprise him.” 

“You’d be pissed if it was your couch, and he and Cel—” A pale hand moved over his mouth, Izaya’s expression sickened. 

“Yes, but that’s disgusting, ne. You and I, Shizu-chan,” Izaya moved his hand to Shizuo’s chin, pulling his face closer, lips brushing tenderly, eyes warm, “We’re not disgusting.” 

“No, I’d say you two are pretty disgusting, actually.” 

Immediately Shizuo drew away from Izaya, untangling their hands and shifting to the furthest end of the couch, unable to disguise the flush of embarrassment darkening his cheeks. 

“I thought doctors knocked before they entered, Shinra?” Izaya asked pointedly, his annoyance obvious at having been interrupted. 

“Yes, but this is my home,” the brunette answered casually, taking a seat in the armchair facing the two. “And thank you, Shizuo, for trying to preserve the virtue of my couch. I would regret having to get rid of it.” 

Having lost the ability to speak, Shizuo could only sit there, avoiding Shinra’s smug gaze as he began unloading the first-aid kit. 

“Just curious, though,” he began, unraveling some gauze. “How long _have_ you two been dating?”

“ _Dating?_ ” Izaya repeated, glancing over at Shizuo, smirking. “I thought you said he knew, Shizu-chan?” 

The blond tensed. “Didn’t say he knew everything.” 

Shinra paused his work, raising his eyes curiously. “Am I missing something?”

A smile, not quite as arrogant as his usual one, spread itself across Izaya’s face. “Not even telling his best friend. Really, Shizu-chan is so mean.” 

Exhaling unevenly, still flustered but knowing this moment was inevitable and feeling better that he wasn’t the one that had to break the news, Shizuo instead pulled out another cigarette, giving Shinra a glimpse of the gold band around his finger. “Shut the hell up, Izaya.” 

“Careful how you speak to me, Shizuo,” Izaya cautioned playfully. “I might just file for divorce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is silly, I know, but the idea of Shizuo and Izaya secretly being married is cute to me. Anyone else? Yes? No? ….no? Oh, okay. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your favorites/reviews/follows!   
> ~Merry


	7. Camera Shy

The buttons felt slick beneath his roaming thumb as it slid across the keypad, his eyes glued to a tiny flat screen as he finished entering Kasuka's number into his contact list.

"Don't forget to add my number as an emergency contact, ne."

Shizuo snorted, not glancing up from his new phone. "Like hell I'd be callin' _you_ for help."

Izaya forced a pout from where he sat at his desk. "I can be very helpful, Shizu-chan." A smirk, not all that altruistic, curved thin lips. "For the right price, of course."

Annoyed hazel finally dragged away from the fancy new phone to glare across the expansive living area. "I don't even get a discount, flea?"

Closing his laptop, too distracted to accomplish anything anyways, Izaya sidled over to the couch, bracing his hands on firm leather as he leaned in to greet his precious monster with a kiss. "And for what reason would I give Shizu-chan a discount, hm?"

"Dunno," the blond replied, not yet finished with kissing Izaya just yet, capturing a soft lip between perfect teeth and grinning into annoyed crimson. "Thought I was special?"

Irritated that the protozoan was again trying to force him into being _romantic_ , Izaya extricated himself from what was likely another situation of Shizuo desperately trying to flirt with him. He had too much work to do, and he knew from experience that all those flowery words and stupid kisses left his brain in a condition that was far from functional.

"You're just exceptionally stupid, ne." Removing himself from the couch and out of reach, Izaya moved to stand at one of the many tall windows looking out over the city, arms folded across his ribcage.

Shrugging off the insult, too used to Izaya's weird mood swings at this point to be bothered by trivial shit, Shizuo returned his attention to his phone, scanning through the many new applications and tools his previous model didn't have. Curiously, because the salesperson couldn't shut up about the damn resolution or something, Shizuo opened the camera, centering its focus on the slender man across the room.

" _Oi!_ "

A raven-haired head whipped around, eyes widening upon noticing the phone facing towards him.

_Click!_

Those same eyes narrowed, suspicious. "What are you doing?"

A playful grin spread across Shizuo's face. "Nothin'."

The blond examined the image he'd just captured, ruby eyes frozen in an uncharacteristically naïve expression of surprise. It was damn near adorable.

Unfortunately, next thing he knew, a pale hand was trying to snatch the phone from his grasp.

"The hell—?"

Izaya's face promised certain death, his hand an iron manacle around Shizuo's wrist. "Delete it."

Effortlessly, because really, the flea never could put up a fight against his strength, Shizuo tore his hand free and held the phone out of reach, grinning as the skinny louse practically laid himself on top of the blond to get at the phone.

Realizing it was a lost cause and seeing no point in embarrassing himself any further, Izaya withdrew, although his anger was quick to take its place, front and center.

Seeing exactly where this situation was headed and in too good a mood to let it happen, Shizuo wound a solid arm around Izaya's waist and pulled him onto his lap, feeling the flea resist only slightly.

"Give it, ne?" Izaya demanded, holding out an expectant hand as a head of messy blond hair tickled his neck, a warm mouth ghosting across his throat.

"No."

"If you want a picture of me, I'll send you one." And, knowing full well which cards to play to get what he wanted, Izaya pressed closer to the warm body beneath him, mouth skimming Shizuo's ear. "I even have some special ones just for Shizu-chan."

Warm lips paused against pale collarbones, considering. However, flipping open his phone behind the flea's back and studying the picture he'd just taken, Shizuo decided he liked this one much better. "No deal."

"Shizu—"

"There's nothin' wrong with it, flea," he offered, leaning back into the couch and showing the picture to Izaya so he'd shut up.

Of course, it only managed to make things worse.

Izaya glared at the screen, frowning. "I don't like it, Shizu-chan."

"Tough shit, Izaya, 'cause I do."

"I look stupid, ne."

"You look cute as hell," Shizuo shamelessly argued, snapping the phone closed and burying it within his pocket so he could return his attention to the man straddling his lap. "Should look like that more often."

Izaya sighed. "I'm not _cute_ , you protozoan."

"You are." Large hands moved to grip slender hips, pulling them forward just to hear the way Izaya's breath caught as their stomachs brushed and their bodies pressed. "You're being cute now."

Gritting his teeth but somehow managing to work up a smile, Izaya gripped blond hair roughly as a wet mouth began to suckle his neck. "Will I still be cute when I stab you to death, Shizu-chan?"

"Dunno, 'cause that's never gonna happen, is it?"

"Don't be so sure."

"You really hate getting your picture taken that bad?" He paused, just to grin. "I didn't know you were camera shy."

"I'm not," Izaya retorted, trying to ignore the way Shizuo's tongue was sending pinpricks of pleasure down his spine. "Shizu-chan just doesn't know my good angles, ne?"

"Good angles?" Pulling back, the blond inspected Izaya's face carefully. "Where are the bad ones?"

A flush of red crept up a snow-white neck and into Izaya's cheeks. "What makes you think I'm going to point them out for you?"

"You won't, cause you can't," Shizuo contended, resuming where he'd left off, tracing wet lines beneath Izaya's ear with his mouth. "I've seen every damn angle there is to you, and there isn't a single one that looks anything less than perfect, flea."

A groan wrenched itself loose from Izaya's throat, and his head dropped against a strong shoulder, eyes closing, utterly defeated, brain a figurative puddle of mush. "You're disgusting, Shizuo."

"Bad angle, huh?"

"The worst."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I doubt Izaya's actually camera shy, although it's a little headcanon of mine that he doesn't want Shizuo to see unflattering pictures of him. Izaya can be really cute when he isn't being an ass. (Shizuo agrees.)
> 
> Please review!
> 
> Also, thank you to [chibikiki](http://chibikiki.tumblr.com/post/81042422038/shizaya-fancomic-camera-shy) for the amazing comic! You guys should go check it out and give her some love! <333


	8. Drowned Out

Shizuo Heiwajima hated rain. The planet needed water and shit, he got it, but just because something had purpose didn't mean he had to like it. It just made everything more difficult.

Pocketing his frames, the debt collector again made an attempt at lighting his damp cigarette to no avail. With a final growl of defeat he hurled both lighter and cigarette at the ground, uncaring that his explosive display was gathering attention from passerby who peeked at him curiously from under obnoxiously colorful umbrellas.

That was another thing: umbrellas. Walking through the streets of Ikebukuro on a normal day was already annoying enough. City life cultivated the mindset that people were no longer people, simply obstacles, so it was perfectly okay to just walk into others, bump and shove without any form of apology. But umbrellas made the entire ordeal that much more infuriating. Everyone moved slower and paid no attention to where the corners of their waterproof-treated polyester canopies of protection were swinging. Shizuo didn't have enough fingers to count the amount of times his eyes had nearly been gouged out, the perpetrator entirely unaware, uncaring.

He fuckin' _hated_ umbrellas.

So yeah, he supposed his refusal to carry one himself could be considered a form of protest, although it wasn't. He just didn't see the point. It wasn't like he ever got sick, and being in a perpetual state of pissed-the-fuck-off meant that being wet changed nothing for him, mood-wise. The only thing he cared about was convenience, and busying his smoking hand with an umbrella all for the sake of protecting his hair seemed as inconvenient and stupid as he cared for.

He just wanted to get home and take a relaxing, hot show—

Water, ice-cold and _wet_ soaked his shoes and the bottoms of his pants as a black-shoed foot stepped hard and purposefully in the puddle beside him. Immediately Shizuo's eyes went to the figure that'd just passed where he was standing, a black umbrella disguising the man's face.

He didn't need to see the bastard's face. There was only one person in the entire damn city that wore that fur-trimmed jacket, which meant that his drenched pant leg was no accident.

Izaya Orihara smiled as soon as he felt his umbrella being tugged violently from his hands, a hand fisting in the back of his jacket and pulling him into a narrow alley.

Quite quickly his back was shoved against a brick wall, his eyes meeting furious hazel.

"If you wanted to borrow my umbrella, you just had to ask, Shizu-chan. People are going to think you're stealing." Briefly, Izaya's gaze met that of an interested young girl walking by. He waved to reassure her he was fine, that being pressed against a wall by the handsome-but-terrifying blond man was exactly what he wanted.

"I'm gonna do a lot worse than steal from you, you damn flea," Shizuo threatened, the hand he had clenched in the front of Izaya's shirt tightening.

A shower of raindrops descended unforgivingly, plastering Izaya's raven hair against sharp, white cheekbones, the gray sky filtering daylight and making pale skin that much more striking, eyelashes that much darker. The edge of a red tongue slipped from pink lips to taste a droplet caught in the corner of a playful smirk. "Is that an innuendo, or are you actually threatening me for once?"

 _For once._ There was a time when Shizuo's threats were exactly what he meant them to be. A time when everything was way less complicated, and 'I hate you' didn't feel like a lie. That felt forever ago, before he knew that Izaya's mouth tasted like warm coffee, his skin of salt and sugar.

A matching smile, not quite as mischievous, but equally as enticing, stretched in answer across the blond's face. "Dunno, what do you think?"

Izaya's smirk wilted, distracted by the bloom of warmth in his stomach as his body began to respond to Shizuo's proximity, the smell of tobacco still strong and potent beneath the downpour. "I think you're going to chase me."

"If you want me to chase you, first you gotta get away."

" _That_ , Shizu-chan, has never been a problem."

It was Shizuo's own fault for not thinking ahead and securing Izaya's hands, which happened to be the flea's most powerful weapon next to his mouth. At first he didn't notice with how wet he already was, but eventually he realized that his stomach felt warm, and then he noticed it wasn't just warm, but bleeding heavily from the fresh gash carved through his white shirt and flesh.

The cut was only meant to serve as a distraction, something he should've realized before Izaya's knee was planted in his gut.

And that was all it took, a brief window of opportunity where Shizuo's grip slackened, and Izaya was set free.

One, two, three seconds was all the recovery time the blond needed before his attention locked onto his target, lithe frame and slender legs already disappearing to the right at the end of the alleyway.

Shizuo was fast, but Izaya was faster, something to do with less muscle and keener reflexes when it came to facing tight spaces and sharp turns. The smaller the space, the larger Izaya's advantage, and the damn flea's smile turned gloating as Shizuo struggled to keep up.

But everyone had a weakness, and though Izaya was the master at running away, Shizuo was the undisputed king of throwing heavy shit.

Which was why it was a bad mistake for the flea to lead them onto a street with one too many vending machines. With his arsenal lined up neatly along the entrance of a convenience store, Shizuo paused in order to lift one of the machines above his head, grinning chaotically at the man who'd ceased his getaway to admire a display that other onlookers observed in terror.

And once upon a time Shizuo's aim was flawless, his every throw made with the intent to kill. But those were the days when his mornings were a lot quieter, and he didn't open his eyes to the sight of dark hair and pale skin wrapped in messy sheets. Now it was with the intention of _missing_ his target that he threw the vending machine. The case of metal exploded upon impact, cans of soda rolling across wet pavement, a stray caught beneath the sole of a black shoe. Picking up the can, Izaya cracked it open and took a quick sip, licking his lips appreciatively.

"Good, flea?"

"Mmm, why don't you come over and taste for yourself?"

The bend in his knee was the only signal he was ready to pounce. "I just fuckin' might."

The can dropped from pale fingers, their eyes met, and even through the curtain of rain it was easy to read what the other wanted and how this game would end.

Three blocks and the end of another alley was all the chase had left for them before Izaya decided he wanted to be caught, slender fingers clutching fistfuls of a drenched bartender uniform as strong hands pinned thin hips against another brick wall.

Another brick wall, another alleyway, another day of what they'd once called a lapse in judgment, but what had turned into the best damn thing since cigarettes and coffee.

Lips brushed, breath hitching as adrenaline channeled itself into wandering hands and desperate, locked gazes. Heavy drops of water caught on long eyelashes, each of them blinking through rivulets of rain and urgently trying to taste each other through the deluge, each kiss another mouthful of hot breath and cold water.

Shizuo hated rain. He hated how everyone drove slower, how everything was harder to see, how the air felt colder and the world looked a hundred times more bleak.

But if there was anything to love about it, it was the way Izaya looked when the sky spilled itself on top of him, how he tried to warm his fingers by burying them beneath Shizuo's shirt, how he desperately tried to taste him through all the water, the way his breath sounded muffled beneath the storm.

And when it rained really hard, each drop like thunder in their ears, Shizuo loved how he could say anything he wanted because Izaya would always pretend he couldn't hear.

Three words, mouthed against a pale throat, lost beneath the sound of falling water, and the flea lifted his hood above his head and pulled Shizuo inside, mouth wet, tongue warm, just before replying with words that had become so much of a lie, they were practically a joke. "I hate you too, Shizuo."

Their mouths curved in matching smiles, laughter barely audible beneath the quiet fall of rain.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** The past few days have been really rainy, hence this thingy. I sort of want to write a companion piece where Izaya has a cold. I might. Maybe. I feel like Shizuo would be surprisingly good at taking care of him because he (probably) nursed Kasuka through his colds when he was younger, so he has some experience. Anyways, no promises!
> 
> Hope everyone is having a great spring!
> 
> **~Merry**


	9. If the World Ends Tomorrow

_[BREAKING NEWS: NORTH KOREA THREATENS NUCLEAR STRIKE ON U.S.]_ scrolls across the bottom of the television, the red banner and capital bold print signifying urgency and panic.

From the comfort of his couch, Izaya glances up from the screen of his cell phone to absorb the sudden news. Black-clad legs are stretched out, socked feet curled against the edge of his coffee table, one arm tucked lazily beneath his ribcage. His expression turns thoughtful, dark ruby foggy with quiet fascination. On the opposite end, Shizuo is watching along with him, eternal frown hardened no doubt by the inhumanity to innocent (at least in his mind) people. "Humans can be frightening, ne, Shizu-chan."

"Don't act like you didn't know that already, flea. You can be pretty damn scary too." But not that sort of scary. That shit was just evil. Izaya was twisted, but he wasn't that fucking insane.

"Many people might die simply because one man willed it." The words come out on the edge of captivation though the lackluster shine in catlike crimson exposes the informant's disapproval. "I'd run away."

Shizuo's laugh is anything but humorous. "Easy for you, flea. Most people don't have anywhere else to go."

Consideration of the thought is what finally breaks Izaya's spellbound concentration, his attention moving to the blond beside him. "What would you do?"

"Dunno." Shizuo scratches at his cheek as he thinks about his few options, which all turn out to be painfully predictable. "See Kasuka, I guess. Tom, Celty, Shinra…"

It is that answer that finally accomplishes the feat of souring Izaya's mood. "That's not what you're supposed to say. Of course Shizu-chan would come after me, ne."

"You think on my last day alive I'd wanna be playin' chase with you?"

Izaya shrugs. "You wouldn't be staying in Tokyo."

"Says who?"

"Me."

Izaya's gaze moves back to his phone, focus too intent to not be purposeful. It only lifts when he feels calloused fingers brush the back of his neck and he looks over to find Shizuo watching him, warm caramel drastically affectionate.

"That was not an invitation to touch me, you protozoan."

Shizuo doesn't buy it, as usual, taking the initiative to pull Izaya across the couch until he's half sprawled across his lap, the flea's face tight with aggravation at being manhandled. "Yeah, alright," he breathes against a pale forehead, lips dragging down a sharp cheekbone, teeth nipping a fine jaw. "That was kinda romantic, 'zaya. What the hell do you expect me to do?"

_'zaya_. His name, shortened and forever absent of honorific, is unfairly devastating to his guard and he feels the effect the pet name has as soon as the blood rushes into his face and his heart hurtles towards an unforeseen finish line.

"Please die." The words are breathed quietly, just as a tobacco-laced mouth presses against his.

Shizuo laughs at the contradiction, teeth knocking uncomfortably against Izaya's. The informant glares at him with unconvincing disdain, the threat behind his request holding no weight as skinny fingers latch onto a white dress shirt and pull as if to say that no matter what the circumstance, Shizuo would truly be an idiot if he believed that Izaya would ever just let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** It's been a while since I've uploaded anything and today I woke up, had some coffee and wrote this in about ten minutes. I was so excited just to finally complete something that I felt good about, even though it's just a tiny drabble. This past semester at school has really put a damper on my motivation to write, but now that it's over I'm crossing my fingers that it's coming back…
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been following this compilation! I appreciate all feedback/kudos/comments/follows!
> 
> -Merry


	10. Pillow Talk

“Hey.”

A frustrated groan escaped the muffled press of a flat pillow. “Quiet.” 

“Think I should dye my hair soon or no?” Shizuo touched his hand to his head, twisting a bleached strand and trying to tug it into his vision. It’d been, maybe, four or five months since he’d last done anything to it, his roots dark and hard to disguise. “Should probably get it cut too, huh?”

Izaya’s eyelids clenched as if the extra effort would somehow better his chances of falling asleep. The quiet pause meant for his reply was just long enough for his brain to settle and his body to relax as much as it could into Shizuo’s lumpy mattress. Just when sleep seemed feasible, a warm mouth was at his ear, a broad chest pressing into his back.

“Oi. I asked you a damn question, flea.” 

“And I am trying to sleep, you protozoan idiot.” 

It grew quiet again. Whether Izaya’s snappish reply had soured Shizuo’s mood, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Instead he curled his knees to his chest and sighed into tobacco-scented sheets. The smell was reminiscent of cheap hotels without any of the associated loneliness that came knowing you were sleeping beneath the same sheets as countless strangers. These sheets were much softer, warmer, images of familiar fingers and an angry mouth flickering behind Izaya’s closed lids.

Currently that mouth was doing its absolute best at pissing him off.

“Shinra was on my back today about smoking, y’know. Cancer and whatever. Says I need to give it up; that it might do me some good, but I dunno.” 

A white fist clutched the corner of his pillow, Izaya’s anger wakening vengeance and that formidable instinct of his to make Shizuo suffer. Shizuo was stupid, but he wasn’t blind. He’d seen the deep circles beneath Izaya’s eyes. Knew that he had difficulty sleeping on most nights and that was normally _without_ the catalog of stupid questions. 

“What do you— _oomph!_ ”

Feathers, hundreds of them, exploded in a plume of snowy down, sprinkling the sheets and floor in white fluff. Izaya just had time to bask in the quiet aftermath of his pillow-thrown victory before Shizuo tore the pillow off his face and returned the blow with enough force to knock Izaya off the bed—which is exactly what happened.

An embarrassingly unattractive sound strangled itself from between his lips as he landed on his ass, ruby eyes wide in surprise as they lifted to meet the monster’s towering form. 

Pillow still in his brutish fist, Shizuo was staring down at Izaya, inaudibly horrified. He knew what he’d done. Crossed a million fucking lines. “ _Shit_ , flea, I—”

The breath left him again as all one-hundred-and-thirty-something pounds of furious informant lunged after him, pale hands digging sharp nails into his shoulders and throwing Shizuo back onto the bed. 

“Izaya, calm the hell—”

_Whack!_

Another damn pillow burst itself open against Shizuo’s face, blood rushing into his skull, making him disoriented and stunned. This time he enacted more self-control, deciding instead to make a grab for Izaya himself and forcing the flea beneath him. The pillow no longer within his reach, Izaya decided to start punching the hell out of Shizuo’s head. 

“ _Get_ —” his right fist met the back of Shizuo’s head, “— _off_ —” his left, “— _me_.”

“You gonna hit me again?” Shizuo challenged, lifting his caramel gaze to seething crimson. 

Izaya’s eyes narrowed. “No.” 

Shame on Shizuo and all his naiveté for believing him. He’d only just lifted himself off Izaya when the flea was once again attacking him, taking up the last of the pillows on the bed and slamming it with all his strength atop Shizuo’s head. 

When the feathers settled and he felt it safe to look up from the bracket of his arms, Izaya was picking his coat off the floor and slipping into it on his way towards the door. 

“Where’re you going?” 

“Somewhere quiet.” 

Izaya made it halfway across the room when he felt strong arms heaving him back towards the bed by his waist, lifting him entirely off the floor and dropping him onto the mattress. 

Shizuo’s arms didn’t quite leave him, just readjusting around his waist and pulling him close again, the blond’s face pressed to his neck from behind. 

Izaya sighed, exhausted. “This isn’t fair, ne. I need to sleep.”

“Then sleep.” 

“I was _trying_.” Slim fingers rubbed tiredly at coal-lashed eyes. “Shizu-chan is loud.” 

“I’ll be quiet, alright?” And that voice lowered, soft and gentle and needy in all the ways that made Izaya’s resolve shiver. “Just stay.” 

So he stayed. Stayed because he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep for days because their schedules just hadn’t been all that compatible this week. Stayed because Izaya no longer slept so easily without the smell of tobacco weaved into his sheets or the press of Shizuo against his back. Because this stupid protozoan too often forgot Izaya was a light sleeper who didn’t notice the way he whispered things that were supposed to be a secret at his nape, how he pressed quiet kisses and satisfied smiles into his hair as he dozed. 

“Fuckin’ cute when you’re angry,” was the last thing whispered at Izaya’s ear, Shizuo’s knees locking with his beneath smoky sheets, a warm breath brushing a stray feather from his cheek. 

His only complaint before he passed into the realm of sleep was that he just wished he had a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, is that Shizaya cuddling? No way! From me?! How absolutely unexpected. 
> 
> Lol.


	11. Your Number One

When Shizuo decided to stop by Izaya Orihara’s apartment unannounced Friday evening, part of him did anticipate walking in on something unexpected. Not sure what, but… _something_. ‘Cause this was the flea and the flea was, well, shady as fuck. 

Shizuo just hadn’t realized he was _creepy as fuck_ , too. 

Question glued to the dry lining of his ever-tightening throat, Shizuo’s rage bubbled hot in his belly as he stood in the doorway to Izaya’s vast bedroom to find him atop his bed, straddling a body pillow with _Shizuo’s fuckin’ picture on it_. 

“Ah, Shizu-chan,” the creep announced, pretending to play it coy with a tiny glance over his shoulder. “Is it that day of the week already?” A little pout— _stupid cute flea_ —gave the impression that Izaya was disappointed. “And here I was about to have some fun. Oh well. Guess I’ll have to save Karisawa-san’s gift for another time, ne.” A skinny hand patted pillow-Shizuo’s head, the louse sighing dramatically. “Sorry Shizu-chan, I’ve gotta play with the real you now.” 

Absolutely nothing of what was being said seemed to sink into Shizuo’s buzzing brain as he glanced around the room, just now noticing the spilled bag of merchandise on the floor. His eyes narrowed, suspicious. There was a lot of _blond someone_ printed all over that shit. 

“I see you’ve noticed my presents. Well they’re mine, so don’t you think for a second I’m letting you have any of it,” was Izaya’s childish declaration as he crawled off his bed and scooped up a coffee mug. Approaching the quietly fuming monster, Izaya pressed a smirk to the lip of the mug, showing off the scroll of words printed on the front. “What do you think? Cute, ne? Karisawa-san’s little fan club is rather larger than I realized. We’re quite popular, you and I.” 

There it was. His voice. And it sounded like murder. “What the fuck is _Shizaya?_ ” 

Ruby eyes rolled, the flea sighing exasperatedly because he too often enjoyed making Shizuo feel stupid for no reason. “Think, Shizu-chan. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

Yeah, he got it. What he just didn’t get was— _“Why?”_

Slim shoulders lifted, Izaya tossing the mug back amongst the spilled t-shirts, key chains, phone cases and— _was that a damn comic?_

Curiosity and bad decision-making getting the better of him, Shizuo lifted the doujin from the scatter of merchandise to inspect the cover. 

“You might want to not look at that. I know how touchy you are about—”

The first page was all Shizuo needed to see to know he never wanted to see it again. A graphic illustration of Izaya tied up and gagged amongst a pile of trash and him _forcing himself on the flea just_ —“The fuck is this shit, hah?” 

“I warned you.” Izaya bent to pick up the doujin that Shizuo had just violently tossed at the wall, flipping open to his _personal_ favorite page. The part where him being raped by the brute somehow escalated to him begging for it, panting against dirty pavement and gasping a serenade of _harder_ and _Shizu-chan! Shizu-chan!_ Izaya hadn’t yet ruled out the notion of locating the artist of this atrocity and introducing them to his favorite knife because _really_. “They’re quite inventive, ne. As if I’d ever allow Shizu-chan to molest me like this.”

“ _Wouldn’t_ ,” was about the only word Shizuo could get out, rage and disgust and shock that something so fucking vile even existed making it hard to unclench his jaw. 

Something wavered and softened in dark crimson, Izaya flicking Shizuo between the brows just hard enough to sting. “I know. You can calm down now. Here,” and he presented a small drawstring bag, little cream and brown hard candies rattling the clear mesh, “have some candy, ne. I believe it’s coffee and,” Izaya slipped a cream candy into his mouth, looking thoughtful, “vanilla. That must be Shizu-chan’s.” 

While not exactly enough of a distraction to completely tranquilize Shizuo, the blond did seem to settle down. Confusion returned to overpower his fury. “The hell is this, Izaya?” 

“A fan club,” the flea answered simply, casually shrugging off his fur-trimmed jacket and revealing the horrendous t-shirt beneath, _I HEART SHIZU-CHAN_ blindingly bold and obnoxious across Izaya’s chest. “There are some very dedicated believers in our love, Shizu-chan.” 

That word, forbidden in all instances except on nights when both were too sleep-deprived to remember they weren’t supposed to say those kinda things, sounded about as beautiful as a deflating balloon. “ _What_ —”

“Oh! How rude of me,” Izaya cut in, digging through the mess of goods on his floor. “Here. This one’s for you.”

Shizuo caught the t-shirt, knowing before he opened it what it would say: _PROPERTY OF IZAYA ORIHARA._

No. Never mind. This was so much fucking worse. 

The sound of tearing cotton split the tense silence, ribbons of cloth falling to the carpet. Shizuo’s face was solemn, his faith in the good of humankind obliterated over a t-shirt. “You better explain this shit, flea, ‘cause I’m about to destroy your fancy little apartment if you don’t.” 

“Like I said, ne. It’s a fan club.” 

“You keep sayin’ that like it makes fuckin’ sense.” 

“And _this_ is why the concept of me being romantically involved with you is ridiculous. Shizu-chan is much too slow to be of any use.” Izaya slid back onto his bed like a stretching feline, his hands bracketing the Shizuo pillow beneath him, gaze dramatically tender as he spoke to it. “You’re _much_ more intellectually stimulating, ne. Maybe I should fuck you instead.” 

For a second he looked like he was about to do just that, slim hips grinding down on the pillow, breath hitching and back arching like it felt good. 

Shizuo would have none of it. Like hell he was going to let Izaya make him jealous over a damn pillow. “Gonna give you three seconds to get off that thing.” 

“Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna force you off.” 

Those cherry eyes got dangerously close to rolling. “Really, Shizu-chan. You sound like a fan fiction.” 

“A fan _what?_ ” 

“ _Fiction_.” With a playful little hum, Izaya rolled onto his back, leaving the pillow forgotten at his side as his attention moved to reading something on his phone. “Let me see, hmm…Us fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking,” he commentated, scrolling through a list, “more fucking, me fucking _you_ ,” he paused on that one, smirking. “I’ll save that for later, I think. There really isn’t enough Izuo.” 

“Izu—”

“It’s where Shizu-chan’s the one begging for it, ne,” Izaya explained coolly, continuing his perusal and proceeding to ignore the beet-red monster approaching his bedside. “Ah, here’s one where Shizu-chan impregnates me with his child. I think Shinra might enjoy this one.” 

The blond stilled. “You’re pregnant?”

Izaya’s gaze as he glanced over the top of his phone was intensely disparaging. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Images of Izaya rubbing away at a rounded tummy came to mind and Shizuo found himself not totally put-off by it. The idea of Izaya raising a child, well, that wasn’t as appealing. 

“You’re disgusting.”

A black-socked foot prodded Shizuo’s stomach and he grabbed at the flea’s ankle, pulling him low on the bed. “Don’t call me disgusting when you’re the one riding a pillow with my face on it, flea.” 

That thin mouth curled, Izaya’s expression lecherous. “Does Shizu-chan want me to ride something else?” 

“Yeah, the first plane outta Japan.” 

“ _Or,_ ” Izaya interjected softly, lowering the ball of his foot over Shizuo’s groin and wriggling his toes, “something else?” 

A tiny smile tickled Shizuo’s lip, sharp leonine glimmering with subdued amusement. “Depends on whether you tell me what the hell this is about, Izaya.” 

Foot dropping back to the mattress, Izaya ceded. “We’ve been discovered, Shizu-chan. The game is up.”

Confusion once again blanketed the debt collector’s face. “People have known about this for awhile now, flea.” 

“No, Shizu-chan. _Close friends_ and _Karisawa-san_ are two entirely different entities. If she had influence at any major media outlet, I can assure you all of Japan would currently be discussing our _tumultuous, angst-ridden romance_ ,” he divulged, quoting directly from a fan fiction he’d been laughing over since his discovery of the fine art. 

“How?”

“Ah, I suppose two little brats may’ve spilled the truth in exchange for a limited edition poster of the amazingly talented Yuuhei Hanejima.” 

Shizuo’s brow creased. “Your sisters ratting us out relates to this, how?” 

“Shizu-chan is so lucky to have a pretty face, ne. Ugly and stupid would just be too cruel,” Izaya sighed, sliding a pale hand across his face and shaking his head. 

“ _Oi_ ,” Shizuo barked, not liking being teased. Yanking Izaya closer until his ass was close to slipping off the edge of the bed, he leaned over his skinny form with every intention of being domineering. 

Only drawback to the plan was that Izaya liked it a little too much, hips and hands too eager for someone that was supposed to feel intimidated. “Do you have any idea how many people fantasize about us, Shizu-chan?” 

Warmth seeped into Shizuo’s face, Izaya’s cool fingertips caressing his nape and playing with his hair. “Don’t get it, flea. Dunno what’s so appealing about the idea of me forcing you.” 

“That was that one comic, ne. Most of it’s a lot more—” Izaya’s face crinkled, disgusted, “ _sentimental_.” 

“Yeah, well that’s a lot better than that other shit,” Shizuo argued, dropping his face into the curve between Izaya’s shoulder and neck. “Wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“I know. You can stop saying that.” There was nothing marginally romantic about Shizuo reassuring him that he’d never force himself on him. Izaya wasn’t so pathetic as to thank people for being civilized. Mostly, it was annoying to think that someone out there thought Shizuo _would_. Even when Izaya had felt most threatened by the brute, he never once entertained the suggestion that the monster was even capable of something so nauseatingly hateful. 

“So how do we get rid of it?”

“Hm?”

“This Shizaya shit.” _Shizaya_. Damn, that was weird. 

Ruby eyes glistened, Izaya biting back another smile. “We can’t, ne. All of Ikebukuro knows now. There’s evidence.”

Shizuo lifted his head, tense. “What evidence?”

“Photos, videos, sound recordings, journals with very specific dates and times where you and I have met up,” Izaya listed, counting on his fingers. “My sisters are very thorough.” 

Displeased, Shizuo growled, the sound dangerous and angry. “Then make up some damn story. You’re good at covering shit up.”

“True,” Izaya agreed, unable to withhold his smile any longer. “Though I see no point in why I should deny any of it. If anything, it only benefits me. I rarely receive _this_ many gifts.”

“Gifts with _my_ face on everything.” Izaya’s laugh was quiet against Shizuo’s shoulder and _shit_ , whatever, he was done fighting over it. Not like it really mattered if everyone knew. At least he no longer felt like he had to hide. Hell, maybe this meant they could finally be out in public together and do more than just play chase. From that perspective, maybe he might find those little flea brats and thank them. 

“On the other hand,” Izaya continued, voice quieter now as Shizuo’s hips lowered between his thighs and his hands moved to grip his hips. “I might have to speak to Karisawa-san about remerchandising. It’s fine if it’s just for me, but I can’t say I’ll tolerate anyone else owning a Shizu-chan pillow.” 

A tobacco-laced mouth grinned against milky flesh. “That’s kinda selfish, flea. You think you can have me all to yourself, huh?” 

“Of course.” Golden honey watched skinny fingers lift the hem of Izaya’s shirt, exposing pale flesh and a small temporary tattoo against a jutting hipbone; an arrow that pointed suggestively downward, scrawling text shamelessly declaring _SHIZU-CHAN ONLY_. “I’m your number one fan, ne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped school because I needed to get this out of my system. I hope it was worth it! (Note: I do not condone skipping out on responsibilities in the name of fandom. I just have a problem.)


	12. Reassurance

Perched on a stool at the kitchen bar, Izaya quietly admired the five-foot-something monster standing before his sink. “I have a dishwasher, Shizu-chan. I don’t need you breaking anything.” 

“I’m not gonna fuckin’—” _Shit._ With dripping fingers and a reluctantly contrite expression of guilt, Shizuo placed the broken shards of what was once a very expensive plate on the counter. “Shut up.”  
  
Izaya’s mouth curled at the corners as Shizuo’s ears darkened, his neck flushing a soft pink. _Cute_ was the thought that slipped through the bars in his brain that held hostage all of the more sentimental things he found himself thinking when around the protozoan.  
  
“That was expensive, you know. I hope you can figure out some way of paying me back.” The way that vermillion gaze warmed and centered itself on the man before him made it clear Izaya wasn’t at all concerned about the broken plate.

“I’ll talk to Tom. Might take a while, but I will pay you back, flea.”

“Not what I meant, Shizu-chan.” There was a smile in his voice. Vehemence was hard for him to force when confronted with Shizuo’s unfairly endearing naiveté.

His ears were darker, his voice more gruff. “Sure you’re okay with that? Kinda do that for you already.”

“I’m sure.”

Shizuo fell quiet. It was a tense sort of quiet that told he had something to say. Something that might possibly be argumentative. “If this is cause you don’t think I can get the money or some stupid shit, Izaya—”

Izaya’s sigh was loud enough to be an interruption. “I’m trying to flirt with you, you idiot. But fine,” his palm flipped open, fingers extended and annoyed, “if you insist on being boring about all of this then so be it, ne. Fifty thousand by the end of the month. A day later and I’ll charge you interest.”

The ensuing quiet extended to the point that Izaya wondered if he’d even heard him. Either that or his walnut-sized brain needed an updated processor and some caffeine. “Alright.”

Izaya frowned. “You can always attempt to flirt back, Shizu-chan.” _Attempt_ because Izaya knew he couldn’t. Shizuo never was any good with subtlety. Flirting for him was, well, a lot more physical than verbal.

“Dunno how, flea.”

“Figure it out. Normally I can’t get you to stop saying embarrassingly sentimental things.”

“Washin’ your damn dishes is pretty sentimental in my book.”

“Get a new book.”

 _“Tch._ Shut up.” Under his breath, Shizuo added a borderline tender, “Always got some smartass thing to say.”

Izaya smiled.  
  
It was late and tomorrow they both had to work. Already Izaya could feel the effects of the hour and knew it was nearing that time when he needed to decide if he wanted Shizuo to stay. He always did. Tonight, however, it would be the fault of the soft yellow lighting and the soothing sound of water as Shizuo’s hands moved a soaked cloth against white porcelain. It all had a lulling effect that could easily make him doze if it weren’t for Shizuo and how impossible it was for Izaya to look away.  
  
“Dunno why the hell you even have a damn plate that costs that much.”  
  
“It was a gift.”  
  
Those broad shoulders tensed, those hands stilling. “Oh yeah?” Shizuo tried to sound unconcerned. Couldn’t. “From who?”  
  
“Does it matter who?”  
  
Shizuo stayed quiet and Izaya knew that meant it mattered. Things mattered now. Who he spoke to, who he dealt with, where he was and why. All of those things were no longer just his to know.  
  
“An old client, Shizu-chan. No one important.”  
  
“You kept it, flea.”  
  
“And you broke it and I don’t care.”  
  
The blond resumed his task, seemingly reassured. “Guess the only thing that you’d care about me breaking is that damn computer of yours.”  
  
_Almost true_ were the words tattooed to the inside of his throat by the beat of his heart. “Which is why it’s important I keep you on a very short leash, ne.”  
  
That tenseness returned, the rigidity in those shoulders angrier. “Not a damn dog.”  
  
“And yet you’re so eager to be domesticated like one.”   
  
There was another crunch, the sound of glass shattering, a bubble burping in water. Those hands were not as apologetic this time as Shizuo pulled pieces of a water glass out of the sink. “That shitty mouth of yours is why no one ever wants to do somethin’ nice for you.”  
  
Izaya’s eyes rolled, the expression in his voice. “Ah, and now you want to whine like an unsatisfied housewife.”  
  
Shizuo bristled. A bent fork was shortly placed next to the broken shards of glass and porcelain. “Just don’t get why you have to be an ass about everything.”  
  
Izaya could be nice. It wasn’t like he wasn’t capable. Being aggressive with Shizuo was just so much more exciting that he saw no reason to be anything else. Though, he acquiesced, being nice to the monster had its merits. His mouth curled at the corners. “Is Shizu-chan feeling unloved?”  
  
“Is that really somethin’ you wanna talk about?”  
  
Smile gone, that ruby gaze wavered beneath onset vulnerability. Shizuo wasn’t playing along which meant that the informant seemed to have struck some kind of a chord. True, Izaya wasn’t the most affectionate _person_ (referring to himself as anyone’s boyfriend made his stomach churn), but Shizuo knew that from the start of this. It wasn’t as if anything had changed. He ran, Shizuo followed. Izaya was the one chased in this relationship. Izaya was the one that got to feel—

 _Wanted_. The informant’s lips tucked, gaze askance because looking away almost made it feel like he was sidestepping guilt.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t notice; he just hadn’t anticipated this being an issue. Shizuo never complained, never so much as hinted that Izaya’s lack of _everything_ left him feeling unsure. Of course, it made sense. Even the unconditional love of a dog wavers after one too many instances where its owner won’t pat its head.

That’s exactly what Shizuo was doing. Wavering.

Izaya frowned, anger snapping fire at his patience. He hated this. Hated how infuriatingly _dense_ Shizuo persistently proved himself to be.

Hands still in eight inches of warm soapy water, Shizuo’s attention moved to his left shirtsleeve, bunched up above his elbow and slowly slipping down his arm. “Oi, c’mere.”

The sound of a stool grinding against hardwood was the only indication that Izaya had heard him, and Shizuo wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that the flea had heeded his request or that he knew exactly what he wanted.  
  
Long, pale fingers reached out, fingertips tucking beneath the cusp of white cotton, folding the crinkled shirtsleeve away from its soapy doom, securing it above a tanned elbow before moving to the other.  
  
Shizuo stayed quiet and still, forgetting to move and breathe properly as Izaya’s chest brushed against his back, those slender, too-damn-pretty fingers of his tickling his forearm softly as he fixed his shirtsleeve.

Finished with his task, Izaya’s fingers uncurled against Shizuo’s forearms, his hands wiping away suds and moisture before dipping beneath warm water and slipping over Shizuo’s. Izaya inhaled smoke and cheap cologne. His eyes closed, mouth brushing a warmed nape, nose caressed beneath a swipe of gold hair.

When he moved closer it was so Shizuo could feel the thrumming press of his heartbeat against his back, the desperate pulse that said everything Izaya couldn’t. And if it were possible, if it meant the protozoan never feeling uncertain again, he’d like for Shizuo to know the insuperable grip with which his soul held onto the string that connected them. How it’d been _don’t blink or he’ll disappear_ from day one, his fingertips tickled by the tendrils of a dream made real the moment he heard that voice say his name and felt it reverberate and take hold somewhere deeper than his bones.

“I know it takes a few tries for something to sink into your head.” His voice was a murmur against salty bronze, his words felt through the movement of his lips against Shizuo’s neck. His lashes dragged as his eyes reopened, his gaze warming to the sight of the flush darkening Shizuo’s cheek. “But you will not doubt me on this again, Shizu-chan. You understand, ne.”

 _Yeah_ , was what Shizuo couldn’t say, his throat tight like he knew saying something might ruin what was the cutest fucking thing Izaya’d ever done for him. His throat tightened in an entirely different way when wet hands dragged across his abdomen, Izaya’s mouth at his ear.  
  
“As for the dishes,” Shizuo’s belt buckle clinked loudly against steel cabinets, the sound followed by the drag of a zipper and the shush of fabric as Izaya’s hand slipped into the front of his underwear. “ _Finish them_.”

Heard just over Shizuo’s quiet hitch in breath was the unmistakable sound of a plate snapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Izaya's feelings towards Shizuo transcends anything even he knows how to understand. Izaya is really cute.


	13. Pudding Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this artwork](http://4nu.tumblr.com/post/54448829615/izaya-ruins-pudding-time-because-he-is-a-child) by [4nu](http://4nu.tumblr.com/).

Shizuo didn’t want for much. He was a simple guy with simple needs. A roof over his head, food and a hot shower were enough to get him through most of the shit life tossed his way. He had his vices—well, cigarettes, but he depended on them too much to quell his anger when little else could that _yeah_ he’d call them a necessity at this point. 

If he had one indulgence, it was a good cup of vanilla pudding.

Pudding time was sacred. When days were tougher and the shitty people he had to deal with were done dragging his conscience through the mud, there was an antidote he could count on. He’d come back to his apartment, shower, change into his softest pair of sweats and a clean tee, and sit down on his couch with some vanilla pudding. There was something so comforting about the taste, the texture, the way it turned to goo on his tongue. With every spoonful he remembered less and less about why the day had been a bad one, because how could it be when _this shit tasted so good?_

Only one individual had ever desecrated what Shizuo now deemed his _me_ time, and that was Kasuka. It wasn’t a memory he liked to dwell on for too long. His rage had kicked in to the point of endangering his own brother, and no amount of repentance would ever be enough to forgive himself. He was young, he was stupid, and he learned to control himself better when shit didn’t go his way. 

Currently his self-control was in overdrive as a socked foot pressed itself to the side of his face. His pudding-laden spoon faltered on its journey to his mouth. With one deep breath and a mental mantra of _don’t kill anyone calm down and think no need to lose your shit_ , he turned towards that foot and the flea it belonged to. 

Izaya looked enormously comfortable lounging on Shizuo’s couch in a black hoodie and cotton shorts, one skinny leg stretched across Shizuo’s lap. From behind his cellphone, the louse was smirking. With a little hum, he began to nudge Shizuo’s cheek with his heel. 

“You wanna lose a leg, flea? Cause that’s where this is going.” 

The threat didn’t hold enough water for Izaya. “Remind me how old you are.” 

“Twenty three.” 

Izaya’s smirk wilted and his phone dropped forgotten on his chest. “You’re twenty-five, Shizu-chan.” Beneath that disparaging stare, he almost looked concerned. 

Shizuo swatted at Izaya’s ankle. The foot on his face retracted for a moment before planting itself right back where it’d been. “Dunno why you asked if you already know.” 

“Of course I know.”

“Creep,” Shizuo muttered.

“ _Informant_ ,” Izaya corrected. 

Shizuo snorted, the sound wholly unattractive. “No one asked you to know shit about me.” 

“ _That_ isn’t true.” A number of times Izaya had received visitors wanting info on the infamously known strongest of Ikebukuro. He could guess their reasons, but he never let them explain. Turning away those curious about Shizu-chan gave him more satisfaction than any amount of money ever could. “But Shizu-chan is my concern, ne. No one else’s.” 

It was one of those comments that Izaya probably didn’t intend to betray his sentiments towards the blond, but did anyway. Shizuo glanced to meet Izaya’s stare, finding that deep crimson caught off-guard. All trace of anger was rinsed from him entirely in that one exchange. Keeping it simple to spare the flea any remorse for accidentally hinting at something he always tried so desperately to deny, Shizuo responded with a quiet, “Guess so.” 

That foot still plastered to his cheek, he returned to his pudding. It took all of zero seconds for Izaya to get pissy. 

“Is it _really_ that good, Shizu-chan?” 

Shizuo nodded, not sure what Izaya meant by _that_ good. It only took him trying to decipher the comment for him to guess the louse might be jealous over a cup of vanilla pudding. “Jealous, huh?” 

The glare sent his way was scathing. “You’d like that, ne. I’m just concerned that a twenty-five-year old man is this obsessed with a child’s dessert.” 

Dragging his spoon from between his smirking lips and looking unfairly enticing (Izaya hated this stupid attractive protozoan _so_ much), Shizuo teased, “Sounds to me like you’re jealous.” He nodded (as much as he could with a foot on his face), towards the kitchen. “You can have some, flea. Got plenty.” 

It was in that incredulous moment that Izaya was once more reminded how desperately _dense_ this gorgeous blockhead of a monster could be. Annoyed with reason, Izaya withdrew his foot from Shizuo’s face only to kick him in the side. 

Shizuo recoiled, immediately enraged and confused. “ _Oi!_ ” 

“I don’t want _pudding_ , Shizu-chan.” Lifting himself from his lounging position on the couch, Izaya reached out to snatch that stupid cup of pudding and spoon from Shizuo’s hands. 

The blond watched on with untiring suspicion as Izaya settled at his side, invading his personal space as if it were his birthright. “The hell are you doing, Izaya?” 

That feline gaze burned with suggestion, provocation a skin Izaya assumed with ease and so oft around Shizuo. Holding onto leonine gold, Izaya dipped the spoon into the stolen cup and pressed a glob of pudding against his tongue. 

Pale fingers curled at the nape of Shizuo’s neck, drawing him forward into a messy vanilla kiss. Pudding muddied their lips and dried sticky on their chins and neither cared as all the sugar dissolved and left them to only taste each other. Breaking away to drag another swipe of pudding against his smirking mouth, Izaya replied with the opposition of someone being told they couldn’t have their cake and eat it too. “It’s called multi-tasking, Shizu-chan.” 

Shizuo called it his new favorite way to eat pudding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d just been casually scrolling through Tumblr when I came across this fantastically adorable artwork of Izaya interrupting Shizuo’s pudding time and _BAM_ I just had to write this silly drabble. Thank you so much to 4nu for the inspiration! 
> 
> On another note, raise your hand if you also want to multi-task with Shizuo…
> 
> ………….*raises both hands*


End file.
